"And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes our second-to-final match!" Janos Verterre's voice echoed across the arena.
The crowd erupted in applause. Vel watched the victorious team exit through the gate. Below, faculty members moved across the arena floor, their hands glowing as they renewed the charred ground—scorch marks left by the beam that had nearly breached the protective barrier.
"Here it is—what we've ALL been waiting for!" Janos spread his arms wide. "The final match! Not just the students hold their breath, but our esteemed guests and faculty find themselves at the edge of their seats!"
He paused. The silence stretched.
Drums began—low, steady beats that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The rhythm felt less like music and more like a summons.
Guards in crimson and gold emerged from the entrance tunnels, positioning themselves along the arena wall. Vel had watched every match today. These guards had never been here before.
"What's happening?" Tomas whispered.
Celia's hand shot up, pointing toward the special guest section. "There."
A figure draped in ornate robes settled into the seat beside the Archmagister's box. Even from this distance, their presence commanded attention—nobles turning to acknowledge them, attendants standing at rigid attention.
Royal blood, clearly. Perhaps not the king himself, but close enough.
"Folks!" Janos called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "You must be curious—confused, even—about what's happening before your very eyes. Then allow me..." He paused, letting anticipation build. "...Janos Verterre... to answer your questions by introducing our FINAL competitors!"
The drums stopped.
"From the EAST gate!" Janos gestured dramatically toward the shadowed entrance. "We have the team captained by Torahiko Kasano, wielding his family's traditional blade! Joined by Valen Heima with her custom crossbow, and Jereth Ulmak!"
Three figures emerged into the sunlight. Kasano adjusted his grip on his sheathed katana, shoulders drawn tight. Valen checked her crossbow's mechanism once, then again. Ulmak's knuckles showed white against his staff.
"They're acting strange for elite students," Rohen murmured from behind Vel. "Shouldn't they be more confident?"
Vel said nothing. He'd noticed it too—the way they walked, the stiffness in their movements. Every other team had entered with confidence, eager to prove themselves. These three moved like they were walking into something far more dangerous than a tournament match.
"And from the WEST GATE!" Janos's voice soared. "Team Atherwind enters the arena!"
The western gate swung open.
"Descendant of the legendary House of Warriors—Lord Kein Atherwind! Destined to become the next lord of his storied lineage!" Janos paused, letting the name resonate. "Joined by Lady Lysithea of the esteemed House Fairwind, whose influence spans the breadth of Lona's commerce!"
Kein stepped forward, a decorated longsword at his hip—its golden crossguard visible even from the stands. Beside him, Lysithea held an elegant hand-fan, its painted surface concealing what Vel knew was her true focus.
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GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation
FantasyWhen renowned game developer Giri meets his untimely end, he awakens as twelve-year-old Vel in the magical realm of Aeonalus-his own creation. Five hundred years have passed since he crafted the world, and Vel finds himself in the village of Oakhave...
